


Not Far From The Tree

by mydeira, Sadbhyl



Series: Responsible Adults (aka, The Menageaverse) [50]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 04:41:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/427005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydeira/pseuds/mydeira, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadbhyl/pseuds/Sadbhyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How that talk under the rug might have went in the ‘verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Far From The Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after Father Figure and set at the beginning of the episode Dead Things.

Buffy’s eyes went wide as Spike dangled the handcuffs in the air, the candlelight winking off the polished steel.

“Who do you think I am, my mother?” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

Spike’s eyebrow shot up. “What happen, Slayer, you walk in on ‘em?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Spike,” she huffed, blindly seeking for her still missing underwear.

“Bloke flashes a pair of handcuffs, the last response he expects is one involving his girl’s mum.”

“Not your girl. Not talking about it,” Buffy muttered, diving under the rug again. Where in the hell had her underwear gone? Of course! Spike probably grabbed them, again. She had lost more good underwear to that freak—“Where are they, Spike?”

The rug lifted as he looked down at her. “Tell me why the cuffs make you think of Joyce, and I’ll tell you where your precious knickers are.”

Put it that way, underwear was cheap, she could sacrifice another pair. Her hand hit a piece of material. Shirt. Shirt was good. Shirt was one step closer to dressed. One step closer to getting out of the crypt before Spike—

“Bothers you, doesn’t it?”

“You wouldn’t understand. And what bothers me is that you won’t leave it alone!” she threw the shirt at him for emphasis.

“This is ridiculous,” he said.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her out from under the rug.

“Hey!”

“Now then, what’s so bad about your mum having an active sex life? An exciting one by the sounds of it,” he grinned.

Buffy gave in. He wouldn’t give up until she said something. And after the conversations with her mother and Giles, an outside perspective might help. Even if it was Spike. “Well, for one thing, she shouldn’t be having a sex life—she’s my mother. And the one she does have is . . . god, it’s not normal!”

“Says the girl who’s shagged not one, but two vampires.”

“Spike!”

“I’m just pointing out the facts, pet.”

She couldn’t argue with that. “We aren’t talking about me.”

“Oh no, cuz it’s never about you,” he rolled his eyes.

“See, this is why we don’t talk.”

There was a flash of pain in Spike’s eyes before he returned to his cocky self. “You afraid I’m going to be shocked by anything you could tell me? Vampire, remember?”

Sighing, “She had bruises, Spike. On her cheek, her wrists . . . and who knows where else. And she was mad at me for being concerned. My mother comes home beaten up, and I’m supposed to turn a blind eye?”

“Didn’t she do the same all those years you were slaying behind her back?”

“It’s not the same thing! I was out fighting vampires and demons. She was over at her boyfriend’s, fucking. It’s different.”

“Doesn’t seem to be for you,” Spike said quietly.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” She knew it had been a mistake talking to him.

“Fucking and fighting, love. For you there doesn’t seem to be that much of a difference between the two,” he replied evenly, watching her carefully as he spoke. “It’s always a battle for you. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, it’s just not the only way.”

“We aren’t talking about me, Spike,” she said through gritted teeth. Why did it always come back to her?

“Are you sure that isn’t what this whole thing with your mum is all about? Seeing too much of yourself in her? Realizing that your deep dark secrets,” he spat, “are neither secret nor uncommon? The normal people you so admire like the dark, too.”

She should be leaving now, running out that door, away from Spike, away from the shit he was saying. But she couldn’t. She was frozen on the floor next to him, unable to get away, unable to block out what he was saying.

“Contrary to what you think,” he continued, “besides being the One Girl in all the world, you really aren’t that different from everyone else. You’re human. Your mother’s human. What it boils down to is this, if it wasn’t done against her consent, well, there’s nothin’ wrong with it.”

“Nothing’s wrong with it? God! Why does everyone keep saying that to me? It's not okay! It's degrading and disgusting!” she screamed, finding her voice at last.

“So, why do you want it that way so much?” he inquired, his tone still conversational.

“I-I . . . I don’t,” she said feebly.

“No? Then why do you go in tooth and nail every time we come together? And expect the same from me?” Spike leaned close. “Every time things get anything other than violent between us, you get that frightened rabbit look like you’ve got going on now and either bolt or strike out twice as hard.”

Which is exactly what Buffy wanted to do. Either run or beat him until he shut up.

“Truth to tell, Slayer, I’ve had enough for one night,” he got to his feet. “Your knickers are next to your pants by the ladder.”

With that, he walked toward the sewers, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from a nearby table as he left.

After a few minutes when Spike didn’t come back, Buffy got up and started dressing. Too many thoughts were crowding in her head. Fortunately, the night was still young. And being Sunnydale, there would be no shortage of demons to slay.  



End file.
